Angels and Demons
by Stormchilde
Summary: Sam Hanna is a strong man but his past still haunts him


He closes the door and he's alone with them again.

Two year old Malachi and four year old Madeline, though now they are six and eight and are called Razi and Zarina.

He visits them as often as he can (though it's never as frequent or for as long as he'd like) and they are always excited to see their cool Uncle James who lives in California, far away from a tiny town in rural Kansas.

It's nights like this that he feels the most alone in his life.

He sits on the floor and opens the safe. At the very bottom under all his other treasures is a large envelope. He gently pulls it out and lays it in his lap. Breath hitches in his chest and he is heedless of the tears that stream down his face. His hands shake as he opens the envelope and they tumble into his lap like they did when they were babies: photos of dusky skinned children with large dark eyes and curly black hair. Yearly school pictures of a smiling boy and girl.

The boy looks like his father, close cropped hair, big smile and ears that he will someday grow into. The girl is a beautiful combination of both her parents – large eyes framed by feathery lashes, dainty nose and a smiling mouth in a heart-shaped face. Her hair cascades past her shoulders in dark, loose ringlets.

He caresses their faces with gentle fingertips, wishing that he could hold them, love them the way a father should. He misses so much in their lives, trapped in a pretend relationship that he does not dare to break.

He presses the photos to his heart, whispering a prayer for their continued safety and happiness.

With his left hand, he unfolds a single page of delicate rice paper. His wife loved to write letters, she felt that it conveyed more emotion than the electronic messages of texts and e-mails ever could even with their icons and smileys.

The crisp paper has turned a dull yellow but it still retains a faint scent of her perfume. He holds it close to his face, inhaling the beloved scent, careful not to allow his tears to dampen it.

He knows every line, every word that she wrote those years ago and he can still hear her voice reading it to him.

_To the man I love more than my own life. My first and only love. _

_Only when I am with you does the sun shine, the wind sing and the world exist. With you I am complete; we have created two tiny lives that continue the beat of our own hearts. In your arms I am at peace, content with all that I am, all that I have, because you have chosen me to be with you forever._

She'd written it for him on their fifth wedding anniversary. It was their last anniversary together.

_**XxXxXx**_

**December 22****nd**** 9:26 a.m.**

"Aw, come on Alex, it's almost Christmas," he complained, "I told Breen and the kids, I promised them, swore to them that I'd be home this year."

Alex shook his head, "Sorry old friend, but lunatics don't take the holidays off."

Sam opened the file, quickly scanning for the important parts. "Assassin for hire, threats made on the Governor's life. Blah, blah, blah. So why are we getting this and not the Secret Service?"

"Read on, Sam." said his boss, "He's one of ours or he use to be anyway."

Forty year old Kyle Finley, a former Navy Seal and Special Operative had turned to outside employment after a black ops mission in Syria had gone south in a particularly messy way and the United States government had disavowed any knowledge of his activities.

Finley had gone underground after somehow managing to return to the United States. He'd become a rogue agent, hiring out to kill government officials ranging from a postal clerk in Kentucky to the Attorney General of Montana.

Three days ago he'd sent a gruesome holiday card to the children of the Governor of California outlining in explicit detail how he was going to murder their father on Christmas Eve and leave him tied with a bow under their Christmas tree.

"We have to get this guy, Sam." said Alex.

Special Agent Sam Hanna worked this case harder than any other before it, determined to close it before Christmas Eve. He tracked down and ruthlessly questioned anyone who'd even so much as pumped gasoline at the same time as Kyle Finley.

_**XxXxXx**_

**December 24****th**** 2:19 p.m.**

Sam had Finley's ex-girlfriend, Paige Polanski in their interrogation room and he felt certain that after six hours of intense manipulation she was close to telling him where he might have a chance at finding Finley.

Paige was nearly in tears after all the threats and promises he'd made to her about her future when a knock at the windowless door interrupted him.

"Not now, Alex." Sam grumbled.

Alex looked excited, "You'll want to take this one, Sam."

Sam stepped into the hallway and accepted the phone.

"It's Finley." Alex said gleefully, "We've got a trace running."

Sam clicked the phone on.

"Here's the thing, Hanna." Finley said, "I'd be a liar if I said there wasn't a time when I was exactly like you. Blind ambition, misplaced trust."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"It might help me to decide what to do next."

Alex was grinning like a fool, motioning Sam to drag out the conversation, make it last so that the trace could be completed.

Sam nodded back at his friend, "Why? What are you thinking about?"

"This business… is a very hard one. But it was never the killing that bothered me."

"Well, what was it Finley?"

"It's how anything that you love… can be taken away from you. It taught me never to care… never to invest. I can't think of anything more horrible… than to know that your enemies… can hurt someone that you love."

The way Finley was taking his time; seemingly pausing to give his words a dramatic flair should have raised a warning flag.

Sam glanced at Alex who was nodding and giving him the thumbs ups sign.

Finley continued to speak languidly, "The feeling is… almost… indescribable."

Alex turned to face Sam; his eyes were wide and his mouth open, the phone dangled from his fingers.

Sam felt his stomach clench and he knew without being told where the call had originated from.

"You still there, Hanna?" Finley asked, a trace of laughter in his voice.

"You're in my house." 

"Almost indescribable isn't it?" Finley sighed, "They're very beautiful, your wife and children."

"Don't… please. Please don't hurt my family, I'll do anything…"

"Stop chasing me, just walk away now or I will rip everything you love out of your life. And then… maybe then … I'll kill you. Oh and Sam … I'm only going to tell you once, leave Paige alone. You don't have much time, do you understand that?"

"What are you going do Finley?"

Finley spoke slowly, his words chillingly clear. "A man… shouldn't outlive his children."

The crack of a gun echoed and then the sound of something heavy falling and Sam screamed wordlessly.

Sam drove mindlessly, his thoughts whirling in agonizing red. His tires squalled around corners; he didn't hear the shriek of horns as he blew through stop signs and red lights.

There were police cars in the driveway, lights flashing, radios crackling but he didn't notice any of that. He threw open the door of the car and ran.

They were in the kitchen.

The children were wrapped in blankets, crying softly, cradled by police women with grim smiles.

"Breen?" his voice sounded like he'd swallowed glass. "Where is my wife?" he begged.

Lieutenant Segura shook his head, "I'm so sorry Sam."

"Where?"

"The den."

She lay twisted on her back beside the Christmas tree, hands trapped under her, tied with rope that had bitten cruelly into the flesh of her wrists. Tape covered her mouth, her eyes were closed. Gunpowder stippled the skin of her forehead around the small dark bullet hole.

"Oh God, oh god… please, please no," he chanted. He picked her up, cradling her against him, feeling the warmth of her slipping away so very quickly. "Breen…" he sobbed, "Oh Breen… no, no please God, no…"

On the tree was a page of green construction paper, written in red marker was the message, "Remember what I said Samuel David Hanna, or I will be back for your children, Malachi Abraham and Madeline Elizabeth."

_**XxXxXx**_

Sam and Alex agreed, the case was dropped by their office. Other agents could, if they chose, take the risk of pursuing Kyle Finley.

Sam Hanna walked away from everything he'd known and loved in order to protect all that remained.

He's never forgotten Kyle Finley, never forgiven him. And if, somehow, somewhere, he should chance to meet the man whose face still haunts his nightmares, Sam Hanna will kill him with his bare hands and will sleep very peacefully that night and all the following ones.


End file.
